


Pasta is Best Served at Midnight

by cornerandchair



Category: Midnight Marinara (Podcast), The Thrilling Adventure Hour
Genre: F/M, Ringmaster is mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:32:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornerandchair/pseuds/cornerandchair
Summary: Midnight Marinara is ramping up to prepare for the spookiest season of the year for their intrepid listeners.Pasta Shade is starting to feel the pressure again, what he doesn't expect is two merry married mediums to come barging into his establishment.





	Pasta is Best Served at Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> You are not entering the Nerdist.com and this fanfic is not sponsored by the Benview Network.

_It’s time to send the little ones to dreamland, and set your fanfiction results to **spooky**. Bolt the doors, lock the windows, and steel yourself for mysterious suspense in this evening's final fic, Meet Frank and Sadie Doyle. Toast of the upper crust, headliners on the society pages. And oh yes, they see GoooooOOOOsssssttttss…_

_“Who cares what evil lurks in the hearts of men?”_

_“Unless Evil is carrying the martini tray, darling.”_

_**Clink!** _

_Join the Doyles as they walk Beyond Belief in tonight’s dark story: Pasta is Best Served at Midnight._

_Our story begins-_

 

The door to the recording booth was thrown open, “Who are you? What are you doing? This is private property!” Pasta Shade grabbed the other narrator by the lapels.

“Hey, whoa- I’m just- I’m just doing my job.” He waved his hands.

The shade turned and pushed the narrator out the door. “Leave!”

The Narrator was escorted off of the premise by the otherworldly staff of Midnight Marinara.

“Who the hell… Am I going to have to change the locks _again?_ ” If he had hair he’d be pulling it out. “Sous chef! Where’s the sous chef?”

“I’m right here, Pasta Shade, jeez, chill your sauce.” She dodged around one of the late night skeleton crew, “You know, even though we’re taking this break to prepare for the season you’re still just as high strung.”

“Of course I am!” he threw his arms into the air. “Why wouldn’t I be? Oregano has been dropping by more often, even though most of our intrepid listeners are most understanding some of them are still breathing down my neck, and our grand reopening is getting closer and I’m still not done cooking!”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. All this ranting can’t be good for your blood pressure, PS.”

Pasta shade let out an utterly indescribable groan. “I am a being made of pure darkness! I do not have blood pressure!!” 

The sous chef held out her hand. “Pasta Shade. Pasta Shade, take a deep breath… In… and out… There you go.” She sighed. “You were literally smoking there for a moment, that would’ve been bad if you’d gone near the dishes.”

“Uh, excuse me.” A different female voice cut in. “Is this the Midnight Marinara establishment that serves _chilling_ tales?” Her voice carried a delightful lilt between that of a New Yorker and an Englishman.

Pasta Shade and the Sous chef looked over at a pair of humans, the female that just spoke, and a man standing behind her. They looked like they stepped out of a picture of the 1920’s, some sort of upper crust married couple.

“What _now?_ ” Pasta Shade’s voice raised in utter irritation.

“Oh. Sorry we haven’t introduced ourselves.” She spoke again, walking forward and extending an elegant hand. “I’m Sadie Doyle, and this lovely man behind me is my wonderful husband Frank.”

The man behind her, Frank, snapped his head up. “What Sadie said.”

“What are you doing here? We’re closed! Go away!” Pasta Shade waved his arms again, attempting to shoo the couple away.

“Your door wasn’t locked.” She pointed back. “Besides we were hired by our good friend Carter Caldwell to investigate.” She pursed her lips, “Took us _quite a while_ seeing as Frank has quite the aversion to the…” Sadie leaned in and whispered: “ _The out of doors._ ”

“I still say we shouldn’t have left the apartment!”

She turned, “Quite right, Frank, darling. And you're _so brave_ for braving the outdoors long enough for us to do this. I’ll reward you later.” Sadie bat her eyelashes.

“Oh, I do like the sound of that if I'm catching your subtext right, Sadistic!”

“You are catching my subtext right, Frankenstein!”

_**Clink!** _

“What-” Pasta Shade moved to stand between them. “How did- neither of you are even holding _glasses_ , how did you do that?”

“Preposterous! We are _always_ holding glasses!” Frank declared.

“Wait!” Sadie gasped, “No, Frank! This strange small shade made of the oddest pasta is right! We _aren't_ holding glasses!”

_**Dun dun-dun-Dun-dun DUUUUUUUUN** _

“Where did that come from?!” Pasta Shade nearly screamed.

“Well Sadie, dear, that is something that must be remedied!” He turned on his heel toward the unassuming barkeep of Midnight Marinara. “You, sir! Make us two of your _biggest_ martinis!”

Dead Palette looked up from the glass he was cleaning. “I don’t _make_ martinis.”

“You don't make martinis?” Sadie leaned over to her husband. “Frank, did he say he didn't make martinis?”

“Hey! Don't ignore me!” Pasta Shade tried to place himself between Dead Palette and the Doyles.

“Sadie, he did say he doesn’t make martinis!” Frank turned. “Well, then what _do_ you make?”

“Yeees what _do_ you make- oh! Wait! I remembuuuh!” Sadie suddenly threw her hands out. “I actually did _research_! There were two. Frank, darling, I showed them to you remember?

“Quite right, Sadie-love! Quite right! I can't remember the names, but I remember they were rather dark!”

“Don't ignore me! I am the owner of this establishment and I am telling you to leave!”

“Shall we play a guessing game to figure it out, love?” Frank was unperturbed by Pasta Shade’s shouting.

“Oh that sounds quite fun! We’re they made of gin?”

“No, I don't believe they were! Maybe fine wine?”

“No, no! They were much darker and _much_ better than wine!”

“Hm… Were they whisky?”

“No, but I feel we are getting closer!”

The sous chef snapped her fingers, “Ah! These are _the_ Doyles!”

Pasta Shade turned to look at her. “And what does that mean?”

“Oh well, uh. The Doyles are these merry married mediums… equally at home on Park Avenue and the netherworld…”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, they’re uh… exorcists?” She shrugged.

“Exorcists?” Pasta Shade’s form went wild. “Then they’re a threat to my staff!” He stormed over and grabbed the Doyles by their shoulders. “You two _have to leave! **Now!**_ ”

“Hey!” Frank swat at Pasta Shade’s hand, “Remove your black, strangely pasta oozing hand from my wife!”

“Oh! Oh Frank, I’ve remembered now! _**Black Label!**_ Yes, that one! A bit bitter and small for my taste, but it was _quite_ good, wasn’t it, Frank-darling?”

He snapped, “Oh! Quite right! Black Label, I remember now. Not quite the alcoholic drink I was hoping for. Wait! There was that other one, what was it… _Tito Taster?_ ”

“Right right! Another Mystery solved by Frank and Sadie Doyle.”

_**Clin-** _

“Wait, wait darling. We don’t have glasses, remember?”

“Right…”

Sadie smiled, and whispered: “ _Clink._ ”

“You’re not listening to me! I told you to get out!”

Sadie turned back to Dead Palette, “Listen, barkeep, could you make us something a little less bitter than Black Label but also less subtle than Tito Taster?”

Dead Palette blinked. “I could…” He went back to polishing a glass. “But I won’t.”

“Oh boo!”

“Yes! Boo!”

“Oh. Pasta Shade.” The sous chef grabbed Pasta Shade’s shoulder. “I have an idea- pspspspstpsppst.”

“Oh. Well what if I- pst ppspspspstpspspst.”

“Frank. Frank-darling, look! They’re doing the _whisper thing!_ ”

“Indeed they are, Saide-love. I wonder just what it is they are whispering about.”

“Yeah- That’s perfect and then pspspstpst.”

After that Pasta Shade let go of The Doyles’ shoulders. “Listen… Intrepid guests… My establishment is not suited to treat what you’re looking for at the moment. But my good friend… The Ringmaster and _his_ establishment are more suited to fill your… particular needs at the moment.”

“You mean we will have to go out of doors _again?_ ” Frank groaned.

“Frank, we are already out doors, it wouldn’t be so much as going out of doors again, but continuing to _be_ out of doors.”

“Even worse!”

“Listen- Listen. Mr. and Mrs. Doyle…” The sous chef stepped forward. “Listen, Midnight Marinara is closed right now, but the Ringmaster and his Carnival will be able to uh- Well they have alcohol… and… clowns?”

Sadie laughed, “ _Clowns!_ Oh, Frank, I do love a good clown! Are you sure you wouldn’t want to go?”

“Would it make you happy, Sadie-love?” He took her hand.

“Yeees! Yes it would!”

Pasta Shade and the sous chef shared a look.

“Well then, I… _suppose_ we can go.”

“Yeeees! Oh, thank you, Frank! I’ll reward you double!” She gently kissed his cheek.

“Mm. Frank wiggles his eyebrows.” He hugged her tightly

“Why did he-”

“Stop. Don’t question it. Let it happen. Let them go.”

“Sadie wiggles hers back.”

_**Clink!** _

The Doyles turned.

“Good bye, dark and dreary Midnight Marinara! We’re off to… tooooooooo.” Sadie frowned.

“The Carnival of Samhain.”

“The Carnival of Samhain!” She paused. “You're… you're sure it’s _Sam-hain_?”

“Yes, yes we’re sure it's samhain, now get going! Get out! Go away!”

“Darling, I don't think that little Shade likes us…!”

“I don't! Now go away! Please!” Pasta Shade shooed them out, finally.

“Goodbye, Rude little shade! Goodbye, rude quiet barkeep! Goodbye, human who was probably hired for Racial diversity!”

“Goodbye, Frank and Sadie Doyle.” The sous chef waved.

_It seems this chilling tale about the creator of chilling tales ended rather flatly. But the Doyles continue on their own adventure… in the next dark fic… The Ringmaster’s Carnival._

“I told you to get out! You stupid Wil’ o’ Wisp! You’re not wanted here! This is my story establishment!” Pasta Shade grabbed the arm of a nearby worker and began beating the narrator over the wisp with it.

“Fine! I'm going! I'm going!” The Wil’ o’ Wisp quickly hurried after the Doyles.

“I hope I never see them again.” Pasta Shade rolled his eyes. “They were annoying! The most annoying people ever-”

_**Poof!** _

“Big brother! How are you? I've missed you so much!”

“Goddamn it…”

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to David King and Kaela Berry, the cutest?? fucking couple?? And also big fans of TAH and Beyond Belief so uh... yeah here.


End file.
